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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282955">figure study</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthemist/pseuds/fromthemist'>fromthemist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Art Student Miya Atsumu, Figure Drawing Model Sakusa Kiyoomi, M/M, atsumu making a fool of himself as usual, rated m for naked times not sexy times</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:00:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282955</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthemist/pseuds/fromthemist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Atsumu is tired of drawing old man dicks. Lucky for him, the new figure drawing model is not an old man.</p><p>↳ <b>a short university au</b> based off of <a href="https://twitter.com/mcgooen/status/1358576427164123140">this fanart</a>, ft. art student atsumu and figure drawing model sakusa</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>♧SakuAtsu Fics♧</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>figure study</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello. i should be working on my longer fics but i saw a wonderful <a href="https://twitter.com/mcgooen/status/1358576427164123140">fanart</a> by @mcgooen on twitter and decided to let my brainrot take over. </p><p>thank you to my bb <a href="https://twitter.com/ttodomomo">nicki</a> for betaing!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Atsumu hates Mondays.</p><p>He takes a swig of coffee, his second cup of the day, and fights the urge to slump over his easel as other students slowly trudge into the studio. Another weekend gone, another five days of classes and exams and never-ending homework – for the hundredth time, Atsumu wonders why the hell he decided to follow Osamu to university instead of going straight to the pro leagues after high school. </p><p>He could be in a gym right now, warming up for morning practice and pounding out a few serves to help wake himself up. Instead, he’s sitting on some stupid block at seven in the fucking morning, mentally preparing himself for another live drawing session of wrinkled dicks or saggy tits – all to fulfill some dumb gen-ed requirement for his major. </p><p>If he’d known what waited for him in college, Atsumu would’ve signed that Division 2 offer with a smile and not a second look back, Osamu be damned. </p><p>With a huff, he flips his drawing pad to a new page before pulling out a box of charcoal from his backpack. The stupid little sticks are the current bane of Atsumu’s existence – they snap like Pocky if he holds them too hard and he always ends up with a big smudge on his face at some point, but he’d take them over graphite any day. After that drawing unit, Atsumu had vowed never to touch another pencil if he could help it.</p><p>“ <em>‘Take Drawing 1100, ‘Tsumu, it’s easy and ya get to stare at people naked,’</em> ” he mimicks with a scowl. He scribbles a little gray-haired stick figure getting pantsed at the corner of the page. “Shithead. Should’ve fuckin’ eaten him in the womb.”</p><p>Said shithead is still tucked into bed back in their dorm room, back asleep after Atsumu’s alarm had gone off. Atsumu doesn’t know what possessed him to listen to Osamu when they were choosing classes, but he should’ve known better. The asshole had laughed his ass off when Atsumu burst into their room after his first drawing class, horrified and scarred after being forced to stare at old man balls for three hours straight.</p><p>(“And the guy said, ‘I like your S curve... and your drawing is pretty good too.’ ” Atsumu wrinkles his nose. “The fuck is that supposed t’mean??”</p><p>“He was hittin’ on ya, dumbass.” Osamu snickers as Atsumu’s face goes pale. “What, I thought ya liked ‘mature’ men? Ya even got t’take a peek before –”</p><p>“Finish that sentence and I’ll fuckin’ kill ya, I swear.”)</p><p>Atsumu adds a villain mustache for good measure, then some devil horns, and then a tail – he gets a little too into it though, because he nearly misses his professor’s announcement in his fervor to draw the ugliest looking caricature of Osamu he could manage.  </p><p>“ – new model today, so please treat him kindly.” Atsumu rolls his eyes – they’re here to draw the guy, not become his friend. “As usual, we’ll start with six rounds of two-minute poses to warm up – whenever you’re ready, Sakusa-san.”</p><p>Atsumu’s mind goes screeching to a halt.</p><p>Sakusa.</p><p>
  <em>Omi-kun?</em>
</p><p>The stick of charcoal slips from his hand, tumbling down his sweater and leaving dusty grey streaks across the light knit, but Atsumu doesn’t even notice. His attention is fixed entirely on the sight in front of him – the taper of broad shoulders to a narrow waist, accentuated by the belt of a silky robe; long legs and strong arms, with hands carefully unhooking a plain black facemask; the sensual reveal of pale skin and pink nipples and scattered moles, alongside a trail of fine hair leading down to –</p><p>He forces his gaze to snap up, his neck hot, and Atsumu feels like he’s two seconds away from hyperventilating.</p><p>Sakusa, his high school rival, is the live model for his drawing class. Sakusa, his high school <em>crush</em>, is standing in front of Atsumu – <em>naked.</em></p><p>Atsumu can only watch in a daze as Sakusa lowers himself onto the stool in the middle of the room, legs folded delicately and arms draped over his knees. He curls in on himself, just enough to emphasize the hollow of his collarbones and the curve of his shoulders, head turned to one side – even then, Atsumu can see the soft sleepiness clinging to Sakusa’s face, the slow blinks before those dark eyes flutter shut completely.  </p><p>Backlight by the soft morning light, Sakusa looks like something out of a painting; like a sculpture come to life, still and serene and quiet. It feels intimate in a way that had Atsumu’s tongue going thick, his stomach doing somersaults – it feels almost intrusive to be looking at him like this, a far cry from the Sakusa he’d known from high school.</p><p>He looks… <em>beautiful</em>.</p><p>
  <em>What the fuck.</em>
</p><p>“Miya-kun?” The voice of his professor startles Atsumu out of his daze, his body jolting in surprise. The crack of his knee against the wood easel echoes through the room, and Atsumu’s cheeks go hot when about twenty pairs of eyes immediately zero in on him – nearly everyone in the room, aside for one person in particular.</p><p>He can’t quite decide if he’s happy or upset about that.</p><p>“Sorry,” Atsumu croaks, ducking down to retrieve the charcoal stick from where it had rolled off his leg and landed on the floor. It’s still intact somehow, but he doesn’t think too much of it as he hurriedly hides his Osamu doodle with a new page.</p><p>He positions the charcoal on the paper, all too aware of the judging gaze boring into the back of his head, and fixates onto the curve of Sakusa’s shoulder. It’s the safest place he can find at first glance, and he quickly sketches out a few lines, holding his breath until his professor continues her slow circling around the room.</p><p>Atsumu waits another minute, making sure she’s distracted with another student before he dares to look up. Dark eyes meet his gaze squarely – a single eyebrow raised, the tip of a tongue darting out to wet a plump bottom lip.</p><p>His heart leaps to his throat, hand jerking –</p><p><em>Snap</em>. <em>Plink</em>.</p><p>Sakusa’s gaze drops lower, and Atsumu follows it as he glances down. Half of his charcoal stick is pressed against a jagged, dark line slashed across his drawing pad, the other half lying on the ground – just barely visible beyond the embarrassingly obvious tent in his sweatpants.</p><p>A muffled yelp slips out as Atsumu hurriedly crosses his legs, tugging his sweater over his lap. </p><p>“Fuck,” Atsumu whispers, leaning down to pick up the other piece of charcoal. When he looks back up, face burning, Sakusa is still watching – this time, with his lips tilted into a smirk.</p><p>“Next,” his professor calls, and Atsumu’s brain goes blank as Sakusa unfurls his body into a new pose – one leg extended out to the side as the other stays tucked across the stool, back arching and arms rising until every one of the muscles in Sakusa’s chest are thrown into sharp relief. The soft play of light and shadow hide nothing, but Atsumu is focused wholly by the way Sakusa turns his head back to face Atsumu – chin lifted proudly and eyes heavy, as if daring him to look away.</p><p>And Atsumu, never one to back down from a challenge, exhales slowly – he lets his hand mindlessly move on his drawing pad in favor of giving Sakusa a slow once-over, intent and purposeful and lingering. He bites his lip at the sight of Sakusa’s cock, soft and pretty against a milky thigh, and Atsumu thinks he must be imagining things when he sees it twitch, ever so slightly.</p><p>
  <em>Did he…?</em>
</p><p>In the middle of the room, the muscles of Sakusa’s stomach jump – and the pink tint of Sakusa’s ears tells Atsumu all he needs to know.</p><p>He smiles. </p><p>
  <em>Two can play at this game, Omi-kun.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and then they fucked in the supply closet after class ╰(*´︶`*)╯</p><p>--</p><p>literally just yeeting this out bc i have no self control. thanks for reading!</p><p>p.s.: if anyone has twitter, my username is <a href="https://twitter.com/dalla_nebbia">@dalla_nebbia</a> - feel free to drop by and say hi! ♡</p></blockquote></div></div>
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